


Boom goes the Psychic

by Fireflykat



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Bombs, Injury Recovery, Real Psychic Shawn Spencer, Shawn Spencer Whump, White supremacist, angry henry spencer, cryptic clues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 09:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29748255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fireflykat/pseuds/Fireflykat
Summary: after a case gone tragically wrong, Shawn is left injured and actually psychic?? - eventual Shassie
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Boom goes the Psychic

**Author's Note:**

> Letting you know now, Henry is a little OOC, I know he isn't actually this bad in the show, but some part of me thinks he could have easily ended up getting this controlling

“You really screwed up big time, Kid.” Henry’s voice cut sharply through Shawn’s unconsciousness, pulling him back into the present. He was met with a hot blazing agony that seared through his whole body. Disembodied voices echoed through his head. Opening his eyes, he saw his father at the door, his arms crossed, giving him a disapproving look. He was in the hospital, of course. That normally was where one ended up if they got caught up in an explosion. If they survived. 

“Nice to see you too, Henry,” Shawn slipped into sarcasm with practiced ease. He turned to his bedside and saw Gus sleeping soundly. There were no clocks around, but by his estimation he had to have been out at least 8 hours. He seemed to be having a hard time concentrating, it was loud inside his head.

“This is no time to be glib, Shawn,” Henry came in to stand at the end of his bed. “People are dead because of you.” Shawn winced internally. “You should have seen the clues, you should have been able to put them together. It was up to you, and you failed. Their lives are on  _ you _ . Did you even try? This is what happens when you lose your edge. People die. You lost your edge. You need to be sharp to save people, this just shows how dull you have become -” Shawn let his father’s criticism wash over him, each one cutting deeper into his sense of self worth than the next. His thoughts kept being interrupted by echoing screams and cries for help. “You will be right back where you started at this rate. Unemployed, with no college degree and nothing to show for your life. The SBPD sure as hell won’t want to hire you back after this mess, they will pin it on you, and they will be right to.” Henry was right. He had nothing. He was nothing. Why did he think he could succeed in this when he failed or gave up at everything else in his life. Mostly he made a point to give up before reaching the failure moment. It was true that he seemed carefree and narcissistic, but in reality, he was anything but. In fact it was a carefully crafted mask he had spent his entire life perfecting. He never let his father show how much his words affected him though. And he wasn’t about to start now. His concentration started slipping again when a more tangible voice entered the conversation. 

“I think that’s going a little far, don’t you Mr Spencer?” A thin blond detective was walking towards the room, accompanied by her tall thin counterpart. Juliet O’Hara had a fierce look in her eye, Carlton Lassiter shot Shawn a concerned look before turning a scowl at his father.

“Karen wouldn’t throw Psych under the bus,” Lassiter said confidently, “And it is as much our fault as his. He was the one who figured out that a bomb was going to go off, and he figured out where. He can’t expect to do everything by himself. He isn’t even a real detective.” Shawn looked at him trying to hide the shock he felt. He never thought Head Detective Carlton Lassiter would stick up for him. That was like Gus not wanting to go out for Jerk Chicken. It just didn’t happen. He looked over at Gus in the chair next to the bed, who was awake now and traded a look with him. His eyes glazed over as the barrage of voices returned. 

“Maybe she should.” Henry said stubbornly, his voice increasing in intensity and anger as he spoke. “If Shawn was going to try and stop the bomb by going in without backup, then of course he would get caught in the blast. I would expect nothing less from a screw up like him. He didn’t even manage to save anyone. Or stop the bomber. If people were going to die, he should have been one of them.” silence filled the room. Lassiter and Juliet looked shocked at the pronouncement, Gus looked sick, Shawn’s expressionless facade never faltered, he was staring into a corner, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“Gosh, Henry, if I knew that was what it took to get you to admit your real feelings towards me, I would have tried to stop a bomber a long time ago.” Shawn said without emotion, he didn’t have the energy for his father right now. His head was killing him. Henry glared at him, and swept out of the room. 

The four people in the room watched the older man leave, then the detectives and Gus turned back to Shawn. “When did you wake up?” Gus asked.

“Around when Henry started in on how much I screwed up.” Shawn said with an attempt at airyness. Lassiter came around to put a hand on his shoulder, but Shawn flinched so violently he nearly jumped out of the bed. “DON’T TOUCH ME!” He shouted, as Lassiter pulled his hand back. Shawn could feel everything starting to hit him at once. He was still in agony because of the pain of being blown through a wood deck and hitting the water, the horror of watching the people on the boardwalk being ripped apart as if they were ragdolls, the anger in the pedestrian’s faces as he pulled up the police barricades behind him, so more people wouldn’t get hurt, as he ran down towards the home-grown terrorist, the truth in the words his father threw at him. The other voices in his head were screaming at him now. “It hurts,” He whimpered, clutching his head and curling into a ball, not seeing anything. He could feel his stomach starting to rebel, he gagged and something plastic was shoved into curled form just in time to catch what couldn’t stay down. He whined, not knowing who around him was helping wipe his mouth and take away the bucket. 

“Shawn?!” “Spencer, calm down,” Shawn!” Three voices overlapped and joined the cacophony inside his head. He couldn’t make sense of what was going on around him. Where was he? A beeping, growing louder and faster echoed in the background, his name was chanted by familiar voices as they tried to get him to breathe. Dozens of voices from all around him were speaking, soothing, yelling, screaming. A new sound joined, hinges, quick footsteps. His throat felt like it had shut tight. He couldn’t breathe. He saw dark spots clouding his vision. Something cold flowed through him. He coughed, gasped, then everything went dark. 

* * *

Lassiter approached the hospital room where Spencer was still unconscious with Juliet a week after the incident only to find Spencer Sr at the foot of the bed berating him while Spencer the younger sat, covered in bandages, in his bed with an uncharacteristically blank look on his face, staring at the floor. It was almost eerie how still the young man was being. Especially now that he was awake. Lassiter had expected him to start bouncing off the walls and irritating everyone as soon as he woke up, but this was worse, somehow. Then he heard what Henry was saying. 

“-back where you started at this rate. Unemployed, with no college degree and nothing to show for your life. The SBPD sure as hell won’t want to hire you back after this mess, they will pin it on you, and they will be right to.” Lassiter bristled and was about to speak but O’Hara spoke up first, questioning the older Spencer’s accusations. Lassiter had to contribute his own defense of the Chief. As if she would ever do something as dirty as throw someone else under the bus for a communal mistake. Henry had no idea what happened that day. No one did, except Shawn, Guster, O’Hara, the Chief, and himself. It was a tragic accident, they got there too late. 

“He was the one who figured out that a white supremacist organization was going to strike, and he figured out where. He can’t expect to do everything by himself. He isn’t even a real detective.” Lassiter continued, as he and Juliet stepped towards Shawn, placing themselves in between the older and younger Spencers. He looked down and saw shock and something else flicker behind the hazel eyes. Was Spencer really that shocked that he would stand up for him? 

Henry seemed to have none of it, insisting that she should lay the blame on Shawn. Then he heard something he never thought he would hear Henry say, “If people were going to die, he should have been one of them!” an echoing silence followed his words. Shawn said something flippant while looking and sounding expressionless. Henry seemed to take offense and stormed out of the room. 

“When did you wake up?” Guster asked his friend. It was a good question. The man had virtually been in a coma since the accident. Lassiter pulled him, unconscious, from the water five days previously after the bomb sent him flying from the boardwalk, and was fairly certain that he was out before he hit the water. 

“Around when Henry started in on how much I screwed up.” Shawn was saying. He seemed distracted by something. Then again, if Lassiter’s father had just told him he would have preferred him not to survive an incident of this nature, he would be distracted too. His father would need to be around to do that first though. Lassiter came around and tried to put a comforting hand on Shawn’s shoulder, no one should have to deal with that kind of verbal admonishment, he was thinking as his fingers found the younger man’s shoulder blade. It jerked away, and Lassiter saw Shawn flinch violently. “Don’t touch me!” He practically yelled. The detective removed his hand and stepped back, watching as the psychic stared unseeing ahead, with his knees up, hands clutching his head. 

Lassiter looked from O’Hara to Gus who were both staring at Shawn with concern and fear contorting their features. Shawn had started to rock himself and whimper. “It hurts!” he whined. Lassiter had no doubt in his mind that he hurt all over, he shouldn’t be in that position at the moment. He should be far too stiff. He could see Shawn gag in a familiar way and Juliet jumped forward with a bucket. He grabbed a small towel and wiped the whining man’s mouth as he curled in on himself. 

“Shawn?” Gus said soothingly at his right, the heart monitor’s beeping seemed to be increasing at an alarming rate. 

“Shawn!” Juliet said Shawn’s name more forcefully, trying to call her friend out of his head after she put the bucket in the bathroom. 

“Spencer!” Lassiter tried, stepping back and discarding the cloth, using the name he always used for the psychic. 

Nothing seemed to be getting through. His breathing was growing rapid and the alarm on the heart monitor was blaring loudly. 

“I’m getting a nurse!” Gus said as he turned to the door. 

As he approached the door a nurse strode quickly in and assessed the situation with a look. Shawn was gasping now, one hand clutching at his throat. 

The light-blue scrubbed nurse strode to the IV pole and grabbed the tube, quickly she took a package with a syringe in it from her pocket, opened it, uncapped the syringe, made sure there were no bubbles, then pushed the contents into a port in the catheter. She watched Shawn intently as his limbs started to relax and he fell asleep. 

“Is he breathing ok now?” Juliet asked, concerned. The nurse, Aubrey - or so Lassiter saw her name tag say, looked kindly at the detective. 

“He is fine now,” She said, “Moderate panic attack, not uncommon. Brain becomes so overwhelmed it forgets how to do things like breathe. Now that he is asleep, and calmer, he should be fine.” She started repositioning Shawn’s limbs so he lay flat on the bed. Lowering the top half to an angle that was closer to flat. “Try to keep him from moving too much. It will keep him from healing.”

“Sure,” Lassiter said. “Can you make sure his father isn’t allowed back in?” 

“The angry man who was here earlier?” Aubrey asked, 

“That’s the one,” Gus confirmed

“Sure, what’s his name?” 

“Henry Spencer,” Juliet supplied.

Aubrey made a note in the chart. “I will say that only the SBPD is allowed in, should that work?” Gus frowned. 

“I’m not with the SBPD,” He said, “I still need to be able to visit. Shawn is my best friend.”

“And Henry used to be a police detective.” Juliet added.

“So only current SBPD, and - sorry, what’s your name?” Aubrey asked Gus. 

“Burton Guster, but people just normally call me Gus.” He gave her the smile he gave attractive women, flicking his nose and nodding at her. “You hear about Pluto?” 

Juliet smacked him on the arm, “Gus! Not now!” Gus fixed his stance at once and looked sheepish.

“Sorry Juliet.” Lassiter rolled his eyes at them. 

“I thought you said you couldn’t stay long today, Guster.” He said shortly. 

Gus looked at his watch and turned to grab his bag, which had been placed next to the chair. “I fell asleep and lost track of time. I have to go do my route!” He sped past the nurse and out the door. 

“I have to get back to work too,” Juliet lamented, casting a worried look at Shawn. 

Lassiter unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat in the chair Gus had just vacated, pulling out a case file from his bag. “Go ahead, O’Hara,” He said slightly begrudgingly, “I will stay here.”

“We will take care of Mr Spencer, Detective,” the spiky haired nurse said with a brilliant grin. “Don’t worry about a thing!” Juliet nodded at Aubrey and threw a grateful look to Carlton before also leaving the room. “Just hit the nurse call button when he wakes,” She showed Lassiter a small panel with a large red button on it. He nodded and Aubrey also left the room, leaving Lassiter alone with a sedated psychic. 

Lassiter opened the case file he was working on, the murder of a young woman found in her own pool after being stabbed in the gut and left to drown. The case had come to them only a few days ago, while Shawn had still been asleep, and Lassiter was starting to get the nagging feeling that they were going to need him to solve this one. She lived with her parents, who had been out of town at the time - therefore solid alibi, they didn’t have enough money for any waitstaff, she had no significant others, no wealth to speak of, and there was virtually no reason to want her dead. 

Lassiter rubbed his tired eyes as he looked over the pictures of the crime scene again, eventually deciding to look over them some more at another time. He had other cases to look through. He shot Shawn’s sleeping form a look, the psychic had an odd look upon his face. He wasn’t quite sure what the younger man was thinking, or dreaming about, but whatever it was, must have been difficult to deal with. 

* * *

Friday dawned brilliant and far warmer than it should have for a mid November morning. Shawn got up early, as he always did, or rather, he finished getting all the sleep he could manage at an early time. He never managed to get more than 3-4 hours of sleep a night, nightmares and memories were a constant barrage of his nighttime consciousness and he couldn’t keep them at bay enough to get a good sleep most of the time. It normally meant that he ended up lying awake until two or three in the morning, and woke up in a cold sweat at five or six. Seven if he was lucky. 

That morning he had been awoken by memories of the first interaction with Mr Yin. The second half of the evil serial killer pair that traipsed through Santa Barbara the year before. They still had yet to catch him, and no one knew when he would strike next. It was 6 in the morning and Shawn had awoken to familiar cold sweats and shivers coursing down his spine. He got out of bed and jumped in the shower, turning it to just past the normal temperature he used. After relishing in the burning heat of the shower for a good long while, he got dressed and grabbed running shoes, earbuds and iPhone. Despite what people thought, he did go for a morning jog every day. Even if it was just a way to work out his frustration with his memories, it worked, and it helped now that he was so often running after perps. 

Shawn got lost in the music and his head as he ran, and soon he found himself farther from his apartment than usual, and in a bad part of town. He knew exactly how to get home of course, he had seen a map of Santa Barbara when he was 11 and instantly memorized it. Also his father had made him figure out the quickest way to the station from anywhere in the city. Not only from a car, but as a pedestrian and as a crow flies.  _ That was an odd phrase _ Shawn thought absently.  _ As the crow flies. It might be as the bird flies, but I’ve heard it both ways, either way, it's an odd turn of phrase. The phrase, turn of phrase is odd too - _ As he ran past a graffiti covered ally, something caught his eye interrupting his train of thought and stopping him dead in his tracks, moving quickly towards the scribble. 

“Let fire purge the unclean and give the unworthy their damnation.” It said. Shawn would have normally thought nothing of the phrase, but underneath it said, “They must answer for their sins,” 11/11/11. Shawn looked at his phone. That was today. That’s a threat. For today. Something is going to happen.

He called the first person he could think of. “Spencer, I have no time for your shenanigans today, the mayor is -” The man on the other end of the line answered. 

“Lassiter!” Shawn snapped, making the detective stop in the middle of his ramblings. “This is important, I found a HS threat for today. Meet me at Richer and Lincoln. Now.” He hung up without giving the man a chance to ask any questions.

Ten minutes later an annoyed looking Lassiter and curious O’Hara climbed out of a navy blue Crown Vick and walked over to Shawn. “I didn’t know you woke up this early,” Lassiter said smugly. 

“It’s already 8, Lassie,” Shawn said with a small smile. “I’ve been up for hours.” 

“What are you doing here?” Juliet asked

“Got lost in my thoughts while I was jogging,” Shawn shrugged. 

Lassiter looked surprised. “It’s nearly five miles from your apartment.” Shawn just gave a thoughtful noise and directed them to the graffiti. 

“What are we looking at Spencer?” Lassiter was annoyed again. “It’s just graffiti.”

“Look at the words,” Shawn said, “This is the stuff home grown terrorists and school shooters use right before they hit. Plus look, there is a date.” 

“So, it can just be the day it was done.” Juliet looked to Shawn for his reasonings. 

“But this graffiti is at least three to five days old.” Shawn said. 

“Your point?” Carlton asked, frustrated now. Shawn stared at them in disbelief. 

“The date, that’s today, or haven’t you looked at a calendar yet.” Shawn pointed out. “They are calling out the day they are going to commit the act. What better day than what some could consider an ominous day like today, 11/11/11.” The two detectives’ eyes widened. Juliet snapped a picture of the writing and sent it off to the chief. 

“Let’s go Spencer,” Lassiter said, “If you are right, we don’t have much time to figure out when and where this thing will happen. I will drop you at home to get cleaned up.”

Half an hour later Shawn walked into the precinct and was immediately called into the conference room by the Chief.

“You are sure this threat is real, Mr Spencer?” She asked, studying him closely. 

Shawn nodded, “Bet my life on it. Maybe not Gus’s, possibly Lassie’s.” 

Juliet cracked a small smile. “I’m pretty sure the point is we aren’t supposed to betting anyone’s life,” She said. 

“If it’s ok with you, Chief,” Shawn said, “I have a feeling there will be more clues in that part of town. I would like to go investigate. We need more than just a date.” 

Karen studied him, noting his change in process but not saying anything. “Do what you need to Mr Spencer, but take someone with you. Psych is officially hired on this case, so call Mr Guster in please.” Shawn nodded and shot Gus a quick text before heading out to the parking lot with his helmet.

He was about to speed off when he found Lassiter in front of his bike. “The Chief told you not to go off alone.” He seemed frustrated. “I was also going to go check out that part of town. He walked toward his car and motioned to it. “Hop in, we will go together.” Shawn stared at him. 

“Um, Ok.” He got off his bike and slid into the passenger’s side of the car. A few minutes passed before either of them spoke. “What gives Lassie? Why are you being nice to me?” 

“I could ask the same to you.” Lassiter said. “You haven’t made fun of me once all morning.” 

Shawn thought about it. Lassiter was right. He was so preoccupied with the terrorist threat that he forgot about teasing Lassiter. It was his favourite past time, and favorite way to blow off steam. He loved seeing the reactions he got from the older man, they made him feel a fluttering in his stomach. He wanted to tease the man until he got so annoyed he manhandled him up against a wall. He could imagine those large, rough hands pushing his shoulders into the white washed walls of the precinct, he could imagine his thin body pressing up against his own to keep him still, their hips grinding together, lips meeting in a hot and desperate challenge for dominance that Shawn would happily give up. The number of times he imagined those hands spinning him around and pounding into him over and over, until he was desperately pleading for the white hot release. Yes, he imagined it. A lot. The thought of the detective inside him made him incredibly hot. He even fell asleep with dreams of them just cuddling. God he was far gone.

Safe to say, he was very much in love with the head detective. He had been for years. Unfortunately none of the attempts he made seemed to work, so Shawn was close to giving up. 

Shawn snapped back to reality as Lassiter barked his name. “Sorry Lassie, what was the question?” 

“Why haven’t you been your usual obnoxious self today?” Lassiter asked, slightly annoyed. 

Shawn shrugged. “Urgency, I guess. No time. I would be happy to put in some retroactive annoying in the books for tomorrow though, if you miss it so much!” he grinned. 

“Please god, no.” Carlton rolled his eyes at the thought. “Hey, this looks like something.” They had parked and wandered down another alley a few blocks from where they found the first message in the time Shawn had been caught up in his thoughts. Shawn turned with interest and hurried over. 

“That is the same handwriting,” He confirmed from a few feet away. “Sixth will strike unclean from earth.” He read. Immediately something fell into place. “Lassie,” Shawn said quietly, “It’s a bomb.” 

* * *

Lassiter and Juliet sat with the Chief in the conference room while Shawn filled them in on what they found. “So we have the time and the how, yes?” Karen Vick asked, standing in front of a whiteboard. “Mr Spencer, what makes you think it’s going to be a bomb?” 

Shawn felt like he had to expand on his reasoning this time. “The spirits weren’t quite as clear as normal Chief, they led me to the first message, Lassie found the other. But the language in the threat makes me fairly sure a bomb will be used. The first message says that he will cleanse them in fire, the second says he will strike. The only thing that can strike with fire is a bomb.”

Lassiter looked impressed by Shawn’s reasoning. It was logical. “The Sixth could mean the sixth hour.” The detective put in. “as in, the sixth hour for prayer, which is noon.”

“That is reasonable since the rest of his message is religious in tone.” Juliet thought. 

“That leaves us,” The Chief looked at her watch, it was now 9:45 am. “Two hours and 15 minutes to figure out where this will happen. And who is behind it.” She looked at the three of them in front of her. “Mr Spencer, get Mr Guster here pronto, we will need all hands on deck for this one. We are doing a department briefing in 10 minutes.”

Shawn pulled out his phone and called his best friend. “Gus!” Shawn said as soon as Gus picked up. 

“Not right now Shawn,” Gus said irritably, “We have a personal review at the end of the day, I need to prepare for it I don’t have time for any shenanigans,”

“No time for your protests Gus,” Shawn retorted, “The Chief has asked where you are, it’s a red alert, all hands on deck situation and we have already been hired. I sent you a text earlier, didn’t you get it?”

“Your text was just a smiley face with a thumbs up and ‘Where u at?!” Gif from Family Matters, how was I supposed to know what that meant?” Gus asked. “Noon? So we will be done after 12? Fine, but as soon as it hits 12pm, I’m gone.”

“Fine, but hurry, the briefing was supposed to start in ten minutes, and that was five minutes ago.” Shawn paused. “And obviously the text meant that ‘there is a case, yay!’ the Gif meant just that, where you at? And why are you not here? How was that not clear?”

“I don't have time for this right now Shawn, I will see you soon.” 

The briefing had already ended by the time Gus had arrived at the precinct. “Gus!” Shawn cried, scampering up to him, “What took you?!”

“My actual job, Shawn,” Gus scowled, “I can’t just take every day off to go traipsing around with you.” 

Shawn crossed his arms, giving him an uncharacteristically serious look. “I know we normally do things like that, but this is no normal red alert, Gus, it’s a Bomb threat.” Gus’s eyes widened. 

“What? Who? When? Where? Why? How?” He asked, rambling, “And why US??”

“Well, the last question is easy, I psychically divined the threat, duh,” Shawn smirked.

“You didn’t divine anything, Spencer.” Lassiter scowled, “You gave an adequate deduction of a cryptic message in a sketchy part of town that you just happened to be in this morning on your run.”

“What are you talking about?” Gus asked, “Shawn doesn’t run.” Shawn made shhing and throat cutting motions to Lassiter. 

“Of course I don’t buddy.” Shawn said nervously. “Running and exercising is what grown ups do, and I certainly am not one of those. Obviously.” Lassiter just rolled his eyes at the psychic. 

“So what was this message?” Gus asked

“Well, there are two now, we have a time and a date, today at noon, what we are missing is the location, and no one has claimed responsibility for it. So that too.” Shawn explained. 

“The first one was,” Lassiter pulled out a notepad “ _ Let fire purge the unclean from this world and give the unworthy their damnation; They must answer for their sins.’  _ the second message is ‘ _ Sixth will strike unclean from earth _ ’” 

The phone rang, a moment later Chief Vick called out “Another message was found, this one looks brand new,” 

“What does it say?” Shawn asked. 

She listened into the phone then repeated, “ _ Earth, Fire, Wind, Sea, Blast apart Earth to let Fire consume the unworthy, Wind scatter their damned souls forever more and return the unclean to the Sea.” _

Shawn mulled over the phrase. He said the words to the three phrases again, and again. Vaguely he heard someone ask for the time behind him. It was 11 AM. There was one hour left.  _ Think, Shawn, think, people are counting on you.  _ He started pacing blocking out the commotion of everyone else around him. _ What is he trying to say, who is unclean, what is the sea? Who is he? Let’s see break it down… to purge: verb -  _ _ physically remove or expel something completely, to remove a group of people considered undesirable from an organization or place in an abrupt or violent way, or to rid someone or something of an unwanted quality, condition, or feeling. _ _... To Consume: verb - in terms of fire it means  _ _ to completely destroy, _ _ … Damned: adjective  _ _ in Christian belief to be condemned by God to suffer eternal punishment in hell. _ _... That might be something… Obviously religious zealots. Doesn’t narrow it down much - _ A hand fell to his shoulder and he jumped, looking around wildly for whoever it was that had touched him, pulling him from his thoughts. He saw Gus, Juliet, Lassiter, Chief Vick, Buzz, Dobson, and a dozen other police officers looking at him. 

“Thinking out loud again, dude.” Gus said with a small smile. 

“What the hell was that Spencer?” Lassiter demanded. Shawn stared at him, not seeing him, still thinking hard. Suddenly he turned and ran out the door. He was in the parking lot before he realised he didn’t have his bike. He cursed and sped back inside, grabbed Gus’s keys from him without a word and darted back out ignoring Gus’s yell of “SHAWN!!” which after him. He dropped the car off at his apartment, left the keys on his counter (Gus had keys to his place), and grabbed his bike helmet and key, quickly knocking off a message to his furious friend. 

\- blue at apt, thx

Once on his bike he flew down the road towards the area he had found the messages that morning, glancing at his watch the whole time. He arrived at 11:15 and examined the buildings between the alleys where they found the messages. Then located the third a few blocks away. He entered the building and scanned for anything that could be considered out of place. He went back towards the first two messages by the previous alleys and entered the building. Looking around he spotted a black spray painted word on the second floor by a door. Suddenly, everything fell into place. He looked at his watch, it was 11:45, he had 15 minutes before the bomb went off, he just prayed he got there in time. Thankfully, he wasn’t that far away. Pulling out his phone he sent a message to Lassiter, it just said, Boardwalk. He jumped on his bike and sped down the highway, getting off and tossing his helmet away, he ran up the walk, pulling up barricades as he moved onto the wood. He could see a large man in the middle of the crowd with a lightweight jacket that looked oddly bulky. 

“Stop!” he cried as he flew forward, “Days of Creation!!” the man looked around with a leer as he saw Shawn run towards him. 

“Spencer!” He heard from behind him, “SHAWN!!”

He was less than twenty feet away when he saw the finger push the red button and he flew back, hitting the wood hard and crashing through it into the ocean water below.

* * *

Shawn felt himself floating in the water, suddenly the salt water turned to chlorinated water and he felt an agonising pain in his chest as a pair of sharp scissors were stuck there. He gagged on the water, bleeding but still alive and saw a familiar form standing over him. He didn’t think he knew the form, but someone, the person who had been stabbed and left to drown probably, did. “Christopher!” He called to the man, but the tall, muscular 25 year old bent down and tore the scissors from his chest then stood back, watching him as he sunk into the pool. His lungs filled with water as he bled out. The pain in his chest was excruciating. He was dying, all alone in the pool of his own house. That large spanish style house where he lived all his life, barely 20 years old and dead before he could drink. His last thoughts were about his mother and Rick, his stepfather who had been his father for all his life, and the stunning new dress he had gotten to wear that weekend to his best friend’s 21st birthday party. “-cer,” Someone was calling his name, was it his name? No, that couldn’t be right. He was home alone. No one was there. “Spencer!” His name wasn’t Spencer, that was a boy’s name. He most certainly was not a boy. How would someone like that look in what he was wearing. “Sp- Shawn, wake up!” he couldn’t wake up, he had just been killed, hadn’t he? “Shawn!”

His eyes snapped open, he was breathing hard, coughing as though he really had been drowning. He saw Lassiter standing over him. “Lassie?” He said weakly

“You were having a nightmare.” Lassiter said not unkindly. 

Shawn could still feel the remains of the scissors buried deep in his chest. He pressed his hand where he had felt them. He groaned. “That hurt.” 

“What hurt?” Lassiter asked, going back to the chair he had occupied. 

“Scissors don’t make a nice murder weapon.” Shawn said with a wry smile. 

Lassiter’s head turned sharply to him. “What do you know about my case?” He asked shrewdly 

“What case?” Shawn asked. “I had a dream that was drowning after being stabbed by my mom’s fabric scissors. But that can’t be right, because my mom doesn’t live with me, I’m not a 20 year old girl, and my mom doesn’t sew…” Lassiter was looking at him oddly. “It was her step-brother.” He finished. 

Carlton looked down at his case file. “My vic doesn’t have a step-brother…” he said slowly. “But yeah, it’s 20 year old Christina Mendez, parents Rick and Sophia Mendez. Final autopsy showed a drowning and bleeding out to be causes of death.”

“Try Rick’s previous family. He didn’t marry the woman though, so it might be hard to find them.” Shawn lay back, eyes closing again. “Lassie?” He said after a long silence. He heard the other man grunt in acknowledgement. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save anyone.”


End file.
